


Machinations

by Sour_Idealist



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Ensemble Cast, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-03
Updated: 2010-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-21 16:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sour_Idealist/pseuds/Sour_Idealist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their lives are hectic, their world is corrupt, and they are themselves and thrilled to be so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Machinations

“Are they ready for me?” Rachel asked, casting a nervous glance at the courtroom door.

“Almost,” Kurt replied, eyeing her critically. He tugged her collar straight, fixed a lock of hair, and gestured for her to pull her lumi-silk skirt down a bit. “Remember, overwhelmed and scared. You might want to go so far as traumatized, but only if the situation calls for it. Use your judgment.” He paused, hands on hips. “On second thought, don’t. If I think it’s necessary then I’ll tap the desk three times. _Try_ to be unmemorable.”

She huffed at him, but quietly – an aide could come out any moment. “I should think I have excellent judgment, thank you very much!”

“I’m sure. Do you have an explanation for the factory incident in Warsbrow V yet?”

“That was _completely unavoidable!_ ” she hissed, barely managing to keep her voice down. “You have no right –”

“Shhh, the aide’s coming!” Kurt snapped. “Remember, think ingénue. You did absolutely nothing, and remember to bring up Santana without being too obvious about it.”

Rachel nodded, then fixed her nervous expression firmly in place and stepped out of range of Kurt’s surveillance scrambler.

“Right this way, miss,” the aide said. Rachel offered him a shy smile as a warm-up performance and followed him towards the door, mind buzzing. Field work was fun, but she _loved_ to act, and the courts were a vital stage.

\----

“How did I do?” Rachel chirped, dropping into the backseat of Kurt’s hovering limo.

“Perfectly fine,” Kurt said, placing his polished briefcase carefully on the seat. “Driver, to Miss Berry’s home.”

“Immediately, sir,” the AI droned. The limo barely trembled as it took off.

“These seats should be a crime,” Rachel pronounced sanctimoniously, running a hand over the gleaming leather upholstery. “Think of the poor animals.”

Kurt stared at her for a moment. “Please tell me that you’re aware of the irony here.”

“What?”

“Please tell me you are not sincerely preaching the immorality of leather. Wasn’t your metaphorical gun barrel the highest-notched after Puck’s?”

“That’s different! I killed corrupt politicians and hate-crime leaders.”

“For pay,” Kurt pointed out, extracting a fashion magazine from the wall compartment.

“Well, _yes_ , but they deserved to die anyhow, or I wouldn’t have done it!”

“We need a psychiatric division. I’m suspecting a God complex.”

“You’re no better, Mr. Five Notches Yourself.”

He smirked. “Oh, a _lot_ more than five.”

“On the metaphorical _gun barrel_ , not the bedpost!” she squawked, smacking him. “Besides, repeats don’t count.”

“Oh, well then. Fine.”

“Fine indeed, one-notch.”

“I refuse to be mocked for my strict monogamy.”

Rachel’s frantic search for a non-hypocritical reply was interrupted by the bleep of the in-car communicator.

“Describe message,” Kurt commanded without looking up from his magazine.

“You have a message from Unlisted I.D. 59648764201 entitled ‘Tilde Asterisk Asterisk Special Offer Available Now Asterisk Asterisk Tilde.’ Our features suggest that this is likely to be spam.”

“Feed through Program 276, please.”

“I.D. scan required.”

“Initiate for all.”

Rachel twitched as the green grid slid over her; then the right window snapped to view-screen mode. Quinn nodded at them both, fingers folded in front of her like a villain in one of those vintage movies only Rachel and Sam watched.

“Did everything go as planned?”

“It did. Everything is thoroughly fixed on Santana now.”

“I still think we should have let Golden Star take the credit,” Rachel groused, tugging a Mercedes-recommended lipstick out of her purse.

“We went over this, Rachel,” Quinn sighed. “The police could have made the connection way too easily if they’d arrived a couple of minutes earlier.” Rachel snorted. “It’s always possible! Besides, Santana’s Wolf Queen identity has been dormant for a while. People were wondering if she’d vanished.”

“But now they’ll be wondering if Golden Star died in Warsbrow –”

“We’ll set up a sighting soon.”

“But –”

“ _Drop it_ , Rachel, or so help me I will kill Golden Star and make you start over with a new identity.”

“I vote for that plan,” Kurt suggested, turning another page of his magazine. “And this time make her pick something less ridiculously overdramatic.”

“As if Defiant was any better,” someone behind Quinn teased.

“Oh, is Blaine there?” Rachel asked, capping her lipstick. “Blaine, Kurt’s sharing lewd details about your sex life!”

 _“Rachel!”_ Kurt snapped, flushing.

“You know all of the guys do that, right?” Blaine asked.

“Well, yes, but – wait, does _Finn?_ ”

“No, thank whatever hypothetical dwarfs you choose,” Kurt snorted. At the same time, Blaine said “Only that you’re apparently very good.”

“Hmph.” Mollified somewhat, Rachel switched her lipstick for a nail polish. Kurt seized her wrist immediately.

“Not on my inhumane leather seats, you don’t.” He took a closer look and groaned. “Why would you even dream of using that purple with that blouse anyway? It’s at least three shades too red.”

“Could we focus, please?” Quinn snapped. “Rest up for tomorrow, Tina wants backup getting ready the Millerton estate job, and –” Something on her end uttered a clearly-synthetic quack. She sighed. “One minute.”

“Com, set the next incoming message on the network to in-screen view,” Kurt instructed, leaning forward.

“Wait, you don’t have to reroute Brittany through a decoder program?”

“No, the spam-mail piggybacks a connection to our own network, so as long as it stays open in the inbox we have an open line,” Kurt explained absently. “Artie set it up, now shush.”

Brittany’s face popped up on the screen, or more accurately her I.D. pic did. Rachel bit her lip; the acro-squad girl should have been someplace where she could broadcast video.

“Guys?” Brittany sounded nervous. “Uhm, so you know that one power plant on level 36b, the one that’s all run by robots?”

“A.I.s, Brittany,” Kurt sighed. “A.I.s.”

“Yeah, those. So, uh, Mike and I were flying the weapons through there to hide from the cops, but the hover was breaking down, and we had to crash-land it right by the main generator.”

Quinn sighed. “Did you guys get out?”

“Yes, but – there were a lot of things that blow up in there, and the whole thing will be getting hotter, and Mike said the engine was leaking arsentine.”

There was an immediate chorus of _“Fuck,” “shit,”_ and _“mrisct.”_

“So that really is as bad as Mike makes it sound?” Brittany asked.

“Yes!” Quinn snapped. “Blaine, get Wes on the line right now! Kurt, Rachel, turn around and head over there, Golden Star is coming back with a vengeance, we’ll call it a bomb threat. Kurt, don’t unveil Defiant if you can avoid it, we want everyone believing it’s you running the scam on Porteus IV. _Mercedes!_ ” she yelled over her shoulder. “Get in contact with Puck and Lauren, we need to have this under control by the time General Sylvester hears of it.”

“Incoming message from General Sylvester, flagged URGENT,” her computer announced.

 _“Mriscting fuck.”_ Quinn’s screen snapped dark, to no one’s surprise. Dealing with the General in a temper required one’s full attention.

“Driver, level 36b, power plant!” Rachel snapped, digging through her bag. “No, wait, stop at my house, I don’t have my disguise –”

“Car, continue to Miss Berry’s house first and calculate the fastest route to level 36b, sector 4. Locate the coordinates for the power plant there and get us within three blocks,” Kurt ordered. He and Rachel grinned at each other.

“Don’t you love being in the NDG?” Rachel exclaimed.

“You’re shamefully overenthusiastic, but I have to agree.”


End file.
